The long watch of Yzak Joule
by Juniper35
Summary: “The evil that men do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones.” William Shakespeare. Yzak and Dearka succeeded in beating that trend, but staying anonymous after death was apparently another matter...Warning: Yaoi, character deaths
1. Chapter 1

This is no.14 ""Duty" in the list of 20 fanwork fiction themes from the Dearka/Yzak site "Deep Emotion."

**The long watch of Yzak Joule**

C.E. 94

Yzak sat grimly working his way through the usual flood of incoming files on his screen. He could sense the waning PLANT light behind him in the office window, and he expected Dearka to arrive soon to chivvy him into going out for a meal.

He'd growl a little for form's sake, but Yzak knew he would be secretly glad to go. It had been a long day, in a succession of long days. Normally, that was fine by him. It was what he did; it was almost all that he **was** now, after so many years embedded in ZAFT High Command's bureaucracy. Yzak grimly asked himself, as he had increasingly of late: _Perhaps it's time for that to change?_

He was still mulling over that question, moodily staring at his vid screen, when Dearka sauntered into his office. Nothing about his neat uniform showed the long day he had also put in, but the tiredness in his face certainly betrayed it. Alone with Yzak, and outside the regular office hours of ZAFT Headquarters, he didn't bother with a formal salute. He strolled across and perched himself on a corner of Yzak's large desk, flexing the tired muscles in one booted leg.

He gave Yzak a lazy smile. "Hey there! How about having a break? You look pretty zoned out. Maybe you should call it a night before you fall forward into your screen and end up smashing ZAFT property with your hard head?"

"Shut up, Dearka. I'm busy."

"Aw, come on Yzak. We haven't had a meal out in ages. And afterwards we can lie together on the couch sipping some of your wine collection and listening to music. You won't have to talk, you won't even have to think, if you don't feel like it. And as an added inducement, I'll throw in a backrub, gratis! What do you say?"

The picture that Dearka painted definitely held appeal. Yzak didn't let himself give in to temptation very often, but tonight, he decided, he would.

"Yes, all right. I'll do it, if only to get a little peace."

"Great, Yzak. You just made my evening!"

The light caught a hint of silver in Dearka's blond hair as he smiled and stretched wearily. He seemed to be enjoying his apparent victory over his usually stubborn lover and commanding officer. The late afternoon light was harsh. Yzak noticed the lines at the corners of Dearka's eyes were getting deeper. Yzak grimly reflected: _I wonder what signs of aging it shows up in __**my**__ face? Still, it doesn't matter a fuck. We may be desk-bound these days, but Dearka works as hard at keeping fit as I do. That's all that matters. Barring unforeseen circumstances, we should both live for decades yet. And I'm damn well going to spend that time_ _making sure no threat to peace ever happens again. Not on my watch!_

Yzak turned off his vid unit, a signal of his intent not to return that night. Dearka gave a delighted grin and slid from the desk on to his feet. He briefly put his arm across Yzak's shoulders in a sort of half-hug. "Now that's more like it, Yzak!"

It was the nearest to a sign of affection that Yzak would permit when they were both in uniform, here at Headquarters. The brief contact and the whiff of Dearka's cologne were a pleasant tickle to his senses and Yzak didn't rebuke him for the liberty.

Dearka was too important to him. He was the one thing left in Yzak Joule's life that was not solely bound up with duty, with keeping the PLANTs safe, with guarding ZAFT, both from within and without.

"Well, if we're going, get your arse moving, Elsman!"

As Yzak walked with Dearka through the corridors, half-unconsciously accepting the salutes of the few junior officers they passed, Yzak contemplated the plans he was making for the next stage of his life. _Perhaps it would be a good time to broach it with Dearka over dinner tonight? His insights are often useful, and it's going to be a big change in __**his**__ life as well. _

They ate at a simple Italian restaurant not far from ZAFT Headquarters. Apart from the excellence of the food, it was popular amongst the higher ranks for the acoustic controls built into each of the screened booths. The touch of a couple of buttons ensured truly private conversation. Yzak Joule also **knew** that it was trustworthy. That was because he had someone in ZAFT Intelligence monitor the place on a regular basis, for bugs or evidence of tampering with the table controls. Yzak Joule was not a man who trusted easily, or left things to chance.

As they started their simple meal, Yzak let Dearka's humorous anecdote about a couple of Headquarters staff wash over him, without really taking much of it in. His tired mind continued to circle the same topic that had preoccupied him for days now.

He knew now that he had risen as far as they would let him within ZAFT. Despite his track record of success, Yzak had recently come to realise that they would never promote him to that final position of control. He was not sure why.

He gave the mental equivalent of a snort: _maybe it's my personality_? He well knew his reputation as an arrogant son of a bitch, and rather savoured it. Or perhaps that was literally the problem? The 'bitch' in question had left her own dark political legacy. The memory of his mother's disastrous connections to Patrick Zala might well be a contributing factor.

Yzak hoped it hadn't anything to do with his sheltering of Dearka for all these years. The grudge against him for his defection to the Clyne Faction and the Naturals in the First War had lingered on surprisingly, and poisoned Dearka's chances of reaching very high rank. Yzak had to fight damned hard to even get his promotion to Commander. Well, fuck ZAFT High Command, if it was his connection to Dearka that had made the difference. Yzak would rather have Dearka with him, than become a bloody Senior Admiral!

And it was at that moment that Yzak finalised his decision to take the other route to power over ZAFT, which his conscience and ambition equally demanded. He would resign and enter civilian politics, with the aim of getting on the Supreme Council. His ultimate objective would be appointment as Chairman of the National Defence Committee, and the political command of ZAFT.

Yzak smiled grimly to himself. How glad Ezalia would have been if she had lived. If that damned Blue Cosmos attack hadn't take out her shuttle six years previously. Still, she'd been making those charity trips to Earth for years. She'd long accepted the risks that she'd been running. Yzak couldn't blame her. She'd seen it as her duty. And he could never fault her for that, no matter how much he missed her.

Yzak suddenly became aware that Dearka had fallen silent and was watching him with a quizzical smile. "You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you, Yzak? "

Yzak's mouth opened automatically to deny the accusation, as he had so many times before when caught out in a distracted mood. Dearka raised his hand playfully to cover Yzak's mouth, cutting off the words.

Dearka smirked. "Don't say a thing in your own defence, Yzak. For the last couple of minutes you have sat here very intelligently listening to me describe a proposal to have Headquarters painted pink."

He lowered his hand and looked Yzak in the eye, his tone becoming serious. "What's on your mind, Yzak? Is it something you can share with me?"

Yzak gave a slightly twisted smile. "You might say that. I've made a decision, and it's going to have a big effect on us both, if things go the way I intend. This is what I'm going to do, and you're going to help me…."

_**TWENTY THREE YEARS LATER…..**_

In the dim light of his study, the ex-chairman of the National Defence Committee, Yzak Joule, sat at his desk. He was watching a vid he had seen so many times, he could quote the words from memory. It was the expressive face, the long-remembered body language, and the little familiar gestures, he watched so carefully. The words had become almost like white noise accompanying his observation of his lost lover. Not that the contents of the vid were romantic, well not in the sense that most people would have understood. Dearka Elsman had not been a romantic person, but he'd certainly known about love, even when he was grinning shamefacedly as he had been, the day he made this message.

On the vid screen, Dearka made a self-deprecating smirk and shrugged his shoulders. "I won't ask you not to be mad when you get this, Yzak. I know you'll be furious, but this is the best I can do." Another shrug. "What can I say? I fucked up. Once I got you out, I couldn't resist the temptation to go back for Dr Henderson and the technician; they say that's when my REM dose went too high. Of course, they'd already got fatal doses too, so I didn't do them much good, either. Just a gamble that didn't pay off."

Dearka interrupted himself with a little dry cough, and slowly took a sip of water from the large glass in front of him. He was seated at the self-same desk at which Chairman Joule now sat, watching the vid as he had countless times over the five years since it was made.

Dearka's image grinned humourlessly. "I'd like to be around when you wake up, but the doctors tell me this is not likely to happen. I'm deteriorating too quickly, and it will be at least another month before they can risk releasing you from the gel-bath and therapeutic coma they've got you in. So, much as I'd love to hear you rip strips off me in person, I'm not going to be available for it, Yzak. I'm sorry…"

He coughed again, more harshly this time, and a thin trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. He quietly dabbed it away with a couple of tissues and took a longer drink of water.

"Now down to business, while I've the air for it. You'll find the reports waiting for when you get back, but all the results I've had so far from ZAFT Intelligence suggest that this was indeed simply a scientific accident. A miscalculation on Henderson's part when he set up the trial. They'll keep checking, but I'm willing to bet I'm right. So, not an attempt to assassinate you as the Chairman of the National Defence Committee, just an overeager scientist botching the demonstration of his new-fangled space engine. Well, Henderson's going to pay for his miscalculation, too. He's racing to find out what went wrong, by the way, while he's still functional. He thinks if he pinpoints the error, you may still give the project a fair hearing in the future."

Dearka shrugged, and ran one hand tiredly through his hair, in a characteristic gesture. Yzak remembered it from as far back as when they were at school together. "Hell, Yzak. He may even be right. If they can get the bugs out, a compact nuclear spaceship engine capable of that amount of power would make Mars colonisation do-able. And the capability for smaller ZAFT patrol craft to go further and faster would solve some of our worst logistical problems, you know that! So please, Yzak, don't let your anger cloud the issue. Look at it carefully when you get the chance, once all the dust settles, eh?"

Dearka abruptly broke off, staring at the fingers he had run through his hair. Several blond and silver strands had come away from his scalp as the hand withdrew. He gave a grin. "Well, fuck, Yzak. You always did say I'd go bald some day! Looks like your prediction is coming true, thanks to my little friends the REMs. Shit, I **thought** there was more hair on the brush this morning. At this rate I'm going to look really mangy in a few more days."

He smiled sweetly out from the vid, "Well, maybe it's a good thing I'm taping this message now, and not leaving it till later! Most of the official stuff, you'll get through the usual channels, so I won't go over it here. This is just to reassure you: all our people are in place and on the alert for trouble. I'm confidant they'll guard you and ZAFT till you can take up your responsibilities again. I – I just wish I could be there with you, Yzak, to watch your back, like always. I hate leaving you with it all. I always said I'd be there with you, no matter how long it took. And now I have to break my word."

The voice from the vid screen was husky with suppressed emotion now, and a single tear could be seen escaping down the bronze skin of his cheek. Yzak Joule's hand, pale and skeletally-thin, stretched out, and his index finger traced the drop in the image.

Dearka rubbed the tear away with the back of an impatient hand, almost as if in reaction to the touch on his face. "It's no good being sentimental about this Yzak; I know you won't appreciate that, so I'm not going to embarrass you…You know I love you, and I always will. But there are issues much bigger than you and me. Our lives have been spent pursuing certain goals, and that's not going to change just because I'm not around. It's all on you now, love. The doctors say you didn't get a fatal radiation dose, but there will be long-term damage to your health. They don't know how severe that will be, or what it will take to keep you functioning. Well, I know how you feel about doctors Yzak, and I'm here to tell you, you've got to cooperate with them! You've got to survive this and move on with the programme we set. You always said that it wasn't going to happen again, not on your watch. Well, babe, I guess your watch just got tougher and lonelier than we ever envisaged it would be. I know you won't give up!"

Dearka stopped to blow his nose on the tissues and swallow more water. Visibly calmer, he smiled crookedly and lounged back in his chair. "I took some flowers to your mother this morning. I thought it was only polite, seeing as I'll soon be moving in. I don't think she'll mind, not after all the years I free-loaded at the Joule Mansion. Ah, those were good years, Yzak…good years." He seemed lost in a pleasant memory dream for a little while; Yzak Joule stared at those smiling lips and sighed.

Dearka's image straightened in his chair and took a more serious tone, though the little smile was still visible. "I went to see Father the other day, too. Not to say goodbye; he doesn't even recognise me now. He was pottering about in the garden like always and when he saw me, he assumed I was a member of one of mother's charity committees, who'd come for a meeting with her. He told me to go right into the house, his wife would make afternoon tea, and to tell her he'd join her later when he'd finished the border he was working on. He's retreated totally now to the past when my mother was still alive. I guess it was the happy time in his life, and who am I to begrudge it to him? Look after him for me Yzak, won't you? I've left the paperwork all ready for you to sign, to become his legal guardian. Apart from a few distant cousins there's no other family left, and nobody I trust like you. I'm sorry to add to your burdens, love. I know you'll do it. Please know that you have my gratitude. It's helping me to achieve at least a little peace of mind. When his time comes, please see that he is buried with my mother. There's a vacant plot beside her; I'm sure if he was capable of deciding, it is what he would want."

The image of Dearka's hand filled the screen; he must have stretched his fingers across the vid pick-up screen, as if trying to touch a future he could reach no other way. "I'll wait for you on the other side, Yzak. Just don't be in too much of a hurry to join me, eh? And know that I love you…forever. Dearka Elsman, signing off."

And then the screen went dark, as it had so many times before.

Yzak Joule relaxed shakily back in his deep chair. In the weeks since he had resigned his position on the Supreme Council he had ceased taking all medication, and the effects were certainly taking their toll on his body. He didn't care; most of the loose ends of his life were now tied up with just a few personal records, including this vid, to be destroyed. Dearka's father had died of a stroke some six months previously and had been buried as Dearka had asked. Yzak had made his personal farewells to the few remaining people he considered friends or close allies. Now he was wiping the slate clean. Apart from those who had personal memories of him, there would be little trace left of Yzak Joule after his death, apart from official records relating to his military and political careers. And much of the former was still under security ban, and would probably remain that way for many decades. Yzak intended, as much as he could, to fade from the pages of history. The desire to make a name for himself had been one of the driving forces of his youth so many years ago; it had been burned away over the years by the intense need to achieve his goals. The less his opponents knew of him and his objectives, the smaller the chance they would find some way to neutralise his efforts. Yzak Joule, the architect of what ZAFT had evolved into over two decades of careful manipulation, intended to leave them nothing of himself behind to be used against his creation.

And he was so tired. Weary to the bone, weary to his very soul. He wanted to rest and he wanted Dearka. He had never been as certain as Dearka of there being life after death. Well, he was going to find out for himself quite soon now. Either way, he couldn't loose. Either he was going to sleep forever or he was going to see Dearka again. He hoped for the latter but the former would be acceptable. He had slaved for the last five years to strengthen and stabilize ZAFT, packing what should have been the work of decades into a few short years. His hand-picked people were now in positions of power throughout the organisation; they would ensure that his policies continued to dominate for many years to come. Lacus Clyne's administration had kept the peace now for decades; the ZAFT he had built to back up that effort would continue on into the foreseeable future. It was all he could give the future; he hoped it would be enough.

His hand slid to the delete button on the vid control panel and then hesitated. Perhaps he would indulge himself and watch it just one more time…


	2. Chapter 2

Epilogue - C.E. 170

He'd been waiting on the street outside his hotel for more than ten minutes and was starting to wonder if something had gone wrong with his publisher's promised arrangement of a car and driver while he was here on Aprilius One. He'd just made his mind up to call and check, when a sports car came zipping down the street and screeched to halt in front of him. The youth driving the vehicle hastily exited the vehicle and approached him with smiling apologies.

"You're Doctor Pool; I recognise you from our advertising vid. Sorry I'm late, Doctor. I hope I haven't inconvenienced you too much. My name's Andy and I have orders to drive you anywhere you want to go."

They shook hands and Francis Pool found himself warming almost instantly to the cheerful ingenuous youth before him. Though he was **very **young…

"Ah, I hope you don't mind me asking, but aren't you kind of young to be a driver?"

The boy grinned as he opened the front passenger door and held it while the older man got in.

"Been licensed for three whole months, Doctor. Don't worry, you'll be safe. My father and grandfather would kill me if I let anything happen to you."

The boy slammed the door shut and shot round to the driver's seat. Pool smiled in confusion at him as Andy slipped back behind the wheel and asked, "Where would you like to go, Doctor?"

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand. Your father and grandfather…?"

"Sorry, I should have explained. Technically I'm an employee of the firm while I'm on vacation from school, but it is really a family thing. I'm Andy DaCosta; you've probably been dealing with my father over your e-book, though my grandfather still helps out with some of our historical titles, and I imagine your work would be of interest to him, too."

The last statement had a hint of question in it. Pool smiled, the growing sense of familiarity he had been experiencing since meeting his young driver was now explained. "Yes, I've dealt mostly with your father, but I had the pleasure of meeting your grandfather at an historical conference in Orb about two years ago. We had an interesting discussion about the history of ZAFT."

The boy grinned. "Yeah, he's really into that. I could never see the appeal myself. History has never been of much interest to me; I prefer the future to the past. So, where can I take you Doctor?"

Pool slipped on his seatbelt as he replied; he had a feeling he was going to be glad of it. "I'd like to go to the cemetery, please. I want to visit a couple of graves in the older section."

"Right, Doctor. Um, do you want me to stop somewhere for flowers first?"

Pool was surprised, he hadn't considered that. "Ah, no. I think we can dispense with the flowers; I don't think the people whose graves we are going to visit would really care too much about that sort of thing."

The car whipped speedily and efficiently into the traffic stream of the conurbation and conversation lapsed for several minutes while the boy navigated through the busy downtown area. Pool was relieved to see that he was good driver, if somewhat fast, and felt himself relax. When they reached the relatively quieter streets of the conurbation fringe, the boy picked up their conversation again.

"If you don't mind me asking, are these graves we're visiting connected with your e-book, Doctor?"

Pool nodded. "Yes, it's the Joule family plot we're going to see. How much do you know about the subject matter of my work?"

The boy grinned. "Well, I'm kind of low on the food chain at DaCosta Publishing, even if I am family, so I don't get to see any of the manuscripts or anything like that. I mostly run errands, to tell the truth. But there's been a lot of excitement in the office about your stuff: a 'ground-breaking' biography of Defence Committee Chairman Joule to be launched in the centenary year of the First War. It's an important project for the firm and I know my father's pretty keen on it.

I'm personally not that hot at history, though. What I know about Joule, apart from the fact that he was head of ZAFT way back, is what's in the Lacus Clyne rock opera they brought out a couple of years ago. Have you seen it? It's still playing to packed houses here, but I'm sure Dad could get you a ticket if you want to go."

In the five years since Lacus Clyne's death there had been a spate of books and vids on various aspects of her life, both as the long-time leader of the PLANT Supreme Council and as a performing artist. Pool knew a great deal about the former, but relatively little about her as a singer, though her music was still popular. His ears certainly pricked up at the mention of Yzak Joule as a character in a rock opera.

"I wasn't aware that Joule featured as a character in a musical. How was he presented?"

Andy grinned. "Well, I don't want to get your hopes up for nothing, Doctor. He's not exactly a major character in it. It's all set back in the days of the First War, and it is really a sort of love-triangle with music, between Athrun Zala, Lacus Clyne and Kira Yamato. Joule features as a minor character who is himself in love with Clyne from a distance. From memory, I think he has a solo piece about unrequited love in the second act, and that's about it."

Pool grinned mentally at the picture of Joule painted by his young companion but didn't comment on it. "Perhaps if I have the time while I'm here, I'll take in a performance."

While they had been talking the car had entered the highway system that stretched for kilometres across this section of Aprilius One. The car picked up speed as Andy switched over to autonav. It would remain under the control of the computer system that operated all vehicles entering the highway, till they reached the exit point for the cemetery.

Andy stretched his arms and relaxed back in his seat. "It'll be about 30 minutes before we get to the cemetery, Doctor."

Pool smiled. "Thanks. By the way, you don't have to keep calling me Doctor, you know. My name is Francis. I'm 29, so 'Doctor Pool' still sounds too old for me, more like my father. He's also Dr Francis Pool, but he's a medical doctor."

"Ok, you got it…Francis. Names can be a real pain, can't they? I'm the third generation Andrew in my family. I've got a cousin who is also Andrew. Makes you wonder how these family traditions get so entrenched."

Pool looked quizzically at his young companion. "You don't know why your family is so keen on the name Andrew?"

Andy shook his head. "Nope. Never got round to asking. Too many other things on my mind."

Pool looked a little bemused. "I think perhaps you should ask your grandfather; you might find it interesting."

"Yeah, I'm sure there's a history behind it. DaCosta Publishing is big on history and the promotion of 'Coordinator Culture' whatever the hell that is."

He grinned: "To tell you the truth, I don't fit in that well at the publishing house. It's not really what I want to do with my life. I'm interested in environmental engineering; my sister already works for the family firm, so I don't see why I'm expected to as well."

"So what **do** you hope to do with your life?"

"Mars! I want to go work on Mars in the terraforming project. Hell, maybe I can do both. I might be able to persuade my family to let me work there and represent the firm on a part-time basis. Somebody must be writing books on Mars, right? Maybe we could be the first Martian publishing house."

They talked amicably about Mars' development and the logistics of the massive terraforming project which would ultimately provide a liveable environment for some distant future generation of Martian colonists. The domes on its surface and the network of PLANTs around the planet were already expanding rapidly.

Andy was waxing enthusiastic about the new spaceship engines: "…And the new Type 3 Henderson Drive makes it possible to do the round trip in a short enough time that tourism may now be a real possibility! People would be able to visit Mars and return in the time-span of a vacation. The economic spin-off from something like that would be immense!"

Suddenly he looked puzzled and then clicked his fingers in satisfaction. "That's what's been niggling at me! I knew that I'd heard the name Joule in connection with space technology somewhere, but I couldn't pin it down before. Now I remember; he was the one who pushed for the original Henderson Drive to be developed!"

Pool nodded and smiled at him with the pleased expression of a teacher who has seen an unexpected flicker of intelligence in a normally dull student. "You're quite right. The circumstances of it are described in my book. It was actually quite remarkable."

The warning chime from the car's nav system galvanised Andy to resume manual control of their vehicle as they were now approaching their exit point from the highway system. In a slightly distracted tone he asked, "What was that, Francis?"

Pool expanded: "The fact that Joule pushed to get the resources to perfect the Henderson Drive after the accident that killed Henderson is a testament to the man's single-minded dedication."

Andy swung the car into their off-lane and risked a curious glance at his companion. "Why was it such a big deal?"

"Because the accident that caused the death of Henderson took place during a secret demonstration of the new technology at which the only people present were Henderson, a technician, Joule, and his chief aide. Of the four, Joule was the only one who didn't die within weeks of radiation poisoning, and it still killed him five years later."

"Shit!" said Andy softly, as the car turned into the long tree-lined boulevard that led to the gates of the vast cemetery.

"There's actually even more to the story than that. I'll tell you when we get to the gravesite. It will perhaps enable you to understand why I wanted to come here today."

Pool's voice unconsciously took on the tone of an academic lecturer addressing a student. "The influence of Yzak Joule on PLANT politics and the development of ZAFT has been badly underrated. The peace and prosperity that we have gradually attained over the decades since the two wars have been largely attributed to Lacus Clyne's faction working in conjunction with the Orb Union. We've failed to recognise the third party that helped to ensure that stability: Yzak Joule and his network of supporters inside ZAFT. Joule himself made great efforts to keep his influence secret…and I'm sure that the full extent of it is unknown even to this day."

This last comment was made more to himself than to his companion, as Pool's mind fled back to the many occasions during his research in the official ZAFT Archives when he was denied access to files of relevance to his work.

By mutual consent their conversation lapsed as they entered the cemetery. Pool had memorised the coordinates of the grave and the route to it, and gave concise directions to their destination. When the car stopped Andy turned and asked, "Would you like me to stay in the car?"

Pool shook his head. "No, not at all. This is a slightly sentimental visit for me, but not a personal one in the sense of there being any sorrow involved." He paused for a moment and then said wryly, "If anything, I think I'm here to apologise to Joule for what I'm about to do to him."

They got out of the car and Pool led the puzzled-looking Andy up the gentle slope till they came to a short row with three graves. He pointed: "There they are: his mother Ezalia Joule C.E. 23-88, Yzak Joule C.E. 54-117, and on his other side, Dearka Elsman C.E 54-112."

"Who was Elsman?" asked Andy.

"An interesting question; a good portion of my book is dedicated to answering it. Elsman was a childhood friend of Joule's, later a fellow cadet at the ZAFT Academy and team mate in the First War. At some point, I haven't been able to pin down exactly when, they also became lovers and remained devoted to one another for the rest of their lives. Against all ZAFT protocols about sexual relations between personnel serving together, Joule managed to keep Elsman with him as an aide-de-camp right through his time as a senior ZAFT officer. He resigned in C.E. 94 with the rank of Vice-Admiral and Elsman followed him into civilian life and became his right-hand-man in politics."

Andy's eyebrows rose. "I take it this is one of the reasons why people at work have been talking excitedly about your book in such hushed tones?"

Pool shrugged. "I'm not sure what the reaction of the public will be to the book. Your father thinks it will be a popular best seller because of the 'human interest' aspect. My previous work has all been aimed at an academic audience and I had originally intended this to be purely an analysis of ZAFT's development. Your grandfather persuaded me to take a broader approach, as a way of giving Joule some of the public recognition he deserves for the contribution that he made. Well, I say, 'Joule' but it was really both of them."

Pool waved his hand at the two neat white graves lying quietly together in the warm sunshine. "From what I've been able to reconstruct, although Joule was the leader, he did very little without Elsman's input and support. They worked as a team, but Elsman was even more secretive about his role than Joule himself."

Pool turned to look at Andy. "You remember we were talking back in the car of the deaths of the people at the first trial of the Henderson Drive? Well, one of the people who got a fatal radiation dose that day was Dearka Elsman. He died before Joule recovered from the coma he was in for weeks after the incident. Elsman made his own funeral arrangements: burial here, one plot along from Joule's mother. Joule himself filled the space in middle when he died 5 years later. And though I can't prove it, I think his death at that time was more a matter of his own choosing, than anything else."

Andy looked surprised. "Suicide?"

Pool shrugged. "An ambiguous death, certainly. There was medical evidence that he might have lived several more years if he had continued with the medication regime that he'd been on since the accident, though admittedly he was gradually losing ground to the damage done his body. It was well known amongst his contemporaries that he hated doctors and some thought that he just got pissed off with all the 'doctor bullshit' as one of them noted in his personal diary at the time. Personally, I think he chose his time to go. He certainly put a lot of effort into covering his tracks, which suggests to me it was carefully planned."

"So, if he was so good at covering up his activities, how come you've been able to discover all this stuff about him?"

"Being in the right place at the right time. By that I mean that just enough time has elapsed for a few key ZAFT records to pass into the open domain for historical research. Over the coming decades more will be revealed, I'm sure, but I was able to glean enough to give me some clues now. Most of the material on his private life came from sources not available in the PLANTs."

"On Earth? How the hell would the Naturals have records relating to senior ZAFT officials?"

"As a rule, they don't. The Royal Archives in Orb, however, contain some unique vid footage of private Royal Family functions and Joule and Elsman appear in some of them. Very revealing stuff about their relationship. They used to take vacations in Orb, sometimes on one of the Royal Estates where they could be assured privacy and security."

"How come they were so close to the Orb Royal Family?"

Pool smiled at his young interrogator. "You really do need to read more about the history of the First War: Elsman actually fought for Orb at one period in the war and they both knew Lord Athrun Zala before he was the Prince Consort. They all served in ZAFT together in both wars, though there was some complex shifting of allegiances which affected both Elsman and Zala hugely for the rest of their lives. The records are very incomplete, however, and much has to be surmised."

Andy shook his head dolefully. "I think this is why I don't much like history. Too much sifting of conflicting or incomplete data to find out what really happened and then not ever being sure, even after all the effort. Not like engineering where things are precise and you know whether you've solved a problem, or not."

Pool grinned, suddenly looking much younger than his grave scholarly manner usually allowed. "Perhaps you should read my book before you give up on it? History can be enjoyable, and we all need to know where we've come from. People like Joule and Elsman spent their lives to give us the peace we now have. If you don't know the price that's been paid for something, how do you know its true value?"

"Huh, I guess you have a point," said Andy, looking strangely uncomfortable. "So, how did you find out about this stuff in the Royal Archives?"

"Didn't they brief you? I'm from Orb; I teach history at the University of Orb. Princess Lenore, the Official Keeper of the Royal Archives, is also the Chancellor of the University. When she learned of my project, she granted me special access."

Andy blushed, and struggled to formulate the question on his lips without seeming rude. Pool guessed what was on his mind; he'd had this reaction before from Coordinators in the PLANTs.

"Before you ask, no, I'm not a Natural. I'm second generation Coordinator, born in Orb. There have been discrete clinics in Orb and the Oceania Union since the end of the Second War, quietly turning out Coordinators. It's sort of an open secret in our part of the world, but I admit, we don't normally travel outside our own region on Earth. Still too dangerous. I've been to Armoury One to do research in the ZAFT Archives but few other places in the PLANTs. And never before on Aprilius One. Hence my being given a 'native' as my guide and driver."

"Sorry," said an abashed Andy.

"Think nothing of it. It's happened before; I'm sure it will happen again."

As a way of changing the subject, Pool dug out his pocket vid unit and tapped in the code for one of the screen caps he had downloaded from the Royal Archives. He offered the vid unit to Andy.

"This is one of the images that appear in my book, with official permission from the Royal Archivist. It shows Joule and Elsman as a couple. They were at a picnic in the palace grounds and someone took vid of them, er, 'smooching' under the trees."

Andy, recovering rapidly from his embarrassment, actually snickered: "_Smooching_?"

"Well, take a look," said Pool

Andy studied the little image carefully. Two young men stood with their arms around each other, heads tilted back, staring into each others eyes. They had obviously either just kissed or were about to do so. Their clothing was old fashioned but not bizarrely so. They were both good looking, but the one with grey – no, silver hair, was a bit effeminate, Andy thought.

"Which one is Joule?"

"The one with the silver hair."

"No shit! I thought he'd be the other one."

Pool smiled as Andy passed the little vid unit back to him. "Yes, many people judged Yzak Joule wrongly by his appearance in his lifetime. They usually paid dearly for the error, too. He was a tough bastard."

"So this is why you said before that you felt you owed Joule an apology? Revealing his sexuality?"

"Not so much that, but revealing his influence on ZAFT and other things. I suspect I've barely scratched the surface but other historians will come after me, when more material becomes available. Historians are a little like sharks when they smell blood in the water."

Andy simply looked puzzled by the analogy.

"Never mind. Anyway, I suppose we should be going. I think your father has a media conference arranged for me later today and I should go get ready for it."

They both turned in silence for one last look at the modest graves. Pool bowed his head for a moment. _You spent your lives well. Rest in peace. Forgive me._

Andy had his own last comment to Pool as they walked together down the slope to the car: "I guess they're going to have to revise the rock opera, huh?"

"Perhaps they will write Joule and Elsman one of their own. Joule would have hated that! I'm not sure about Elsman – the man had a quirky sense of humour."

The two slipped back into the vehicle which slowly retraced its way back to the road. The noise of its engine gradually faded, leaving the quiet graves on the slope to slumber on in the sun, with only the occasional sound of birds to disturb the silence.

END.

A/N. It seems logical that extended lifespans would be another aspect of superior Coordinator biology. Lacus Clyne born C.E. 55 did not therefore die till C.E. 165. By Coordinator standards, Ezalia, Yzak, and Dearka, all died young.


End file.
